


Liar, Liar

by BeenJohnlocked



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark Sherlock, Kidnapping, Post-Reichenbach, or at least i hope there's angst i'm really trying, sherlock bbc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 20:30:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeenJohnlocked/pseuds/BeenJohnlocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John was overwhelmed to discover that his only friend was still alive outside of his dreams (and nightmares). But should he be? Sherlock has been keeping extremely dark secrets from the soldier and John thinks just maybe he should have taken Donovan's advice and KEPT AWAY.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liar, Liar

**Author's Note:**

> As a beginning author, all constructive criticism is very welcomed! Also, please don't kill me for my totally rock'n pun of a title.

John stood in his doorway looking at the man in front of him. It couldn't be him, he was dead. John saw him jump of of St. Bart's and he walked over to his still-warm corpse and took his faded pulse. He had visited his grave everyday since then but even so, here he was, standing in front of him with those cheekbones just begging to be punched. 

John's fist flew up and forward, but was halted in midair by a skinnier and pale hand. 

"John" 

"I hate you so much right now, Sherlock" John growled, ignoring the dead man. "For all of this! YOU MADE ME ACT LIKE A FREAKING IDIOT!" 

"You're still acting like an idiot, John" John breathed in a shuddery breath and fell lump into the detective's arms, glad he wasn't dead but mad he was alive. 

***** 

The boys were upstairs in their flat and Sherlock was sitting on the couch listening to the fimiliar sounds of John making tea and grumbling about Sherlock's hygiene. Sherlock smirked and put his hands together to form a steeple, he fingers brushing lightly against his lips. He had this all planned out like a mental checklist (actually, that's exactly what it was). 

•Explain to John that he jumped to save the life of his friends. 

Check. 

•Tell John what he was keeping from him. 

Not quite yet... 

John set the steaming cup on the coffee table in front of him and sat down next to him. 

"You adjusted to me rather quickly" Sherlock noted aloud. John took a sip of tea and nodded. 

"Yeah well, after military training and you, one learns to adjust under almost any circumstances" He chuckled humourlessly.

Good. That would make breaking this news to him a lot faster, and Sherlock needed fast to fit all his plans in one day. 

"So Sherlock," Sherlock turned to look at John. "Those things you said on the rooftop. About you being fake, a magic trick and all-" 

"We're lies" Sherlock finished. "But Richard Brook was real I suppose" 

John nodded as if he didn't hear Sherlock correctly, and Sherlock thought maybe he wasn't going to put up a fight, but then that wasn't the John Waston he knew, was it? John stood in front of him scanning his mind for words that would express his thoughts, but there none. 

"I suppose? What the hell does that even mean, Sherlock?" John asked in a crazed fashion. "God. Fuck. Whatever. I just.... I need some air... Give me five minutes..." 

Sherlock snapped his fingers and pointed at John, who gasped in surprise as a laser sight was aimed at his chest. How had he missed Moran crouching in the shadows of the flat. 

"You can get some air in the car ride" Sherlock said darkly. John's eyebrows furrowed.

"Sherlock," He started. "There is no way in hell we're going on a da-" He was interrupt by a blindfold being placed over his face by god-knows-who. "HEY WHAT THE HELL?! LET ME-"

*****

John woke up shivering.  
It was a freezing cold car ride, but John was too terrified and hurt to complain. So he just sat there with a blindfold over his eyes, a rope around his wrists, and a gag in his mouth (another reason he didn't complain). Sherlock, who- from the sounds of it- was to Johns left, spoke to the unknown driver.  
"Take this exit, if you would" John felt the car turn sharply and his stomach ached from all of this turning directly after his tea. "Thank you, dear brother"  
Mycroft then. What on Earth was going on?!   
John gasped as Mycroft suddenly braked and Sherlock caught John's head from swinging to far, saving him from what would have been terrible neck pains.

"Mycroft if you wouldn't mind trying to keep the man alive it would be much appreciated" No wonder Anthea always drove.

"We're almost there," John could feel Sherlock warm breath against his ear and wasn't sure whether to move away uncomfortably or scoot closer for warmth. He decided to do neither, seeing as Sherlock had been rather... unpredictable today (was it even still the same day? How long had John slept?!).  
~~~~~  
John wasn't sure where they were but they were out of the car. The air was hot and very moist. The soldier was pushed onto some sort of wall and held there as his blindfold was removed by a man he had never seen before.  
"Sherlock?" His mouth was covered by the same man as he was told to hush. He obeyed.   
John was walked down a long hallway in what seemed to be some sort of prison. 

Once inside his cell, the rope was removed and Sherlock sat outside the bars peering as if John was his specimen.

Maybe John was his specimen.

Sherlock took a breath as if he were about to speak, but closed his mouth again, stood up, and left quietly.

"No," John croaked. He tried harder to raise his voice before he began again. "Sherlock!" There was no reply. So John was alone in a cell located who knows were for who knows what. It was quite a terrifying thought. But the soldier part of John told him it was okay for now. He could make it through this. At least he wasn't being interrogated.

Yet.

'Well,' John thought. 'if I'm gonna be stuck here I might as well have a look around.'

Utilizing a combination the skills taught to him by the one and only and his army days, John scanned the room throughly (or at least as through as John could get). The cell was mostly empty, save a bed and a toilet. On the bed there was nothing but a sheet and a shitty pillow that was sure to give him cramps. The floor was old, but clean. The toilet was clean as well. So his room had probably never been used before. Of course Sherlock would give a brand new cell. Knowing the living condition Sherlock had probably went through the past three years, he had most likely considered this luxurious.

John sighed and sat down on his bed, hoping to see someone he knew walk past the bars that separated him from the world.

*****

For now, Sherlock had no idea where to start explaining John's situation to him. It was complicated to say the least.

But what John had did had been wrong, and whether John knew it or not was irrelevant.

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters to come! If you liked this, believe me, it only gets better. *wonk*


End file.
